


sinking sand, skin and bones

by rainbowumbrella



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Gen, Ghosts, Good Sibling Allison Hargreeves, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Klaus Hargreeves Needs Help, Klaus Hargreeves-centric, Pre-Season/Series 01, The Umbrella Academy (TV) Season 2 Spoilers, Unreliable Narrator, the usual Klaus tags, very minor spoilers but still
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:20:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25897345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowumbrella/pseuds/rainbowumbrella
Summary: There are about two dozens of ghosts currently in the room, and over half of them have taken a specific interest in Klaus, yelling and begging and crying and demanding and then crying some more. Most of them, he doesn’t know. And then there’s Layla, the main source of his current headache.He should leave. He should get up and - and go somewhere.The thing is, though…The thing is that he has the terrible feeling that he won’t just phase through her if he tries to get up.- * - * - * -ORKlaus’ powers begin to manifest themselves further, and true to his luck, they do so in the most terrifying ways.
Relationships: Allison Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves
Comments: 29
Kudos: 232





	1. Chapter 1

There’s a laundry list of reasons why Klaus hates rehab. He goes over it at night sometimes, when he can’t sleep - and he can never really sleep when he’s in rehab. That’s reason number one.

A number of therapists and counselors have told him that it’s not necessarily the most helpful attitude he could have, that it’s not productive and that fighting the help people try to offer him won’t lead him anywhere but further and further from the people he has left in his life. He… Well, he laughs at them, always, because who are they even talking about?

Ben? He’s only stuck around this long because Klaus made the terrible, terrible decision of telling him that he could always go back to the light later and now he’s trapped. Without Klaus, Ben has nothing. It’s a horrible situation to be in, Klaus knows that, but he doesn’t know how to fix it, and isn’t that ironic? Yet another instance of ghosts needing something from him that he just doesn’t know how to give them, except this time it’s his fault. It’s his fault, and Ben has never asked him to fix it.

He’s tried, though.

Diego? Oh, he sees him sometimes. He crashes on his couch when he’s too far lost in his haze to realize that he’ll just give him hell over it later, and he’s often gone before long. To his credit, Diego keeps helping him, he keeps putting up with him when he stays for longer. It’s been a long time, though, since he’s felt like they’re really friends, since he’s felt like Diego cares beyond his instinctive obligation to help his brother.

Allison? She pays his rehab bills, and she checks in on him occasionally. Sometimes he’ll see her at an arraignment, sometimes she’ll answer a letter he sends her or call him to check in, make sure everything is going as smoothly as it can go, but it’s little compared to the bond they had when they were younger. It hurts, sometimes, to think of how distant they’ve grown.

So who, exactly, is he pushing away by refusing the help that’s imposed on him? He knows why they do it, of course, why they insist that he needs to go through with this, stick with it. He doesn’t necessarily disagree with them, either. There are times when he even wants to accept it, when he even wants to do this no matter how hard it might be. But then the ghosts come, and he remembers - he remembers how it started in the first place, he remembers what it was like to be constantly surrounded by them, pleading voices asking him for things he can never give them, begging him, hands reaching out towards him like he’s a lifeboat and they’re drowning, drowning, and then he’s drowning, and he wants to run but there’s no escape.

There’s never an escape. None other than this. None that he’s found.

Maybe he should keep looking - he probably should, and he knows that - but he’s tired and they’re always there, waiting in the dark, lurking in the corners and the second he lets his guard down he’s drowning again.

So he shirks the help that’s given him, he continues to make the same self-destructive choices, because what other option is there? It’s the one path that allows him to retain some semblance of sanity. The one path where he can breathe. He can breathe, and then he’s drowning in a different way, but he keeps coming back to the same lifeline because it’s the only one he’s found, and sometimes... Sometimes he almost can’t feel himself drowning.

They say they understand. They say he can get help.

They don’t. He can’t.

He really doesn’t think there is any help for this.

And yet he ends up there time again, and it’s torture, but they don’t know that. They can’t know that. Because no matter how many times he tries to explain it, they can never know what it’s like, not really, not even those who believe him - his siblings, even, never truly understood.

He’s been there for 15 days.

Fifteen days, and he’s past the worst of it - for that, he’s thankful. Going through the height of withdrawal with emerging ghosts surrounding him is, he’s convinced, the true horror movie experience. He’s never felt more vulnerable and more terrified than he does every time he has to go through that.

What he isn’t thankful for - aside from the obvious - is this place. He knows Allison is paying good money for this, he does, and he’s quite honestly touched by her show of continued support, but who exactly was it that thought it was a good idea to open a rehab center just a couple of blocks away from a graveyard? He would like to have some words with that person. It’s been a nightmare since day two, a dizzying, horrifying influx of ghosts, and he’s sure, _he’s sure_ , that his father would have been happy. _’It’ll become less taxing, Number Four. You will adapt.’_

Fifteen days in, and the ghosts continue to gather. He has not yet adapted.

There’s Jack, an old farmer that died in a horrific accident involving a pitchfork. He’s… been unpleasant enough that Klaus has begun to wonder over the past week whether it was truly an accident. He hasn’t asked, though. Most ghosts either despise talking about their deaths, don’t seem to realize that they are dead, or talk about it a little too much for Klaus’ taste.

There’s also Lorena, who fell into a well and died apparently before that city looked like anything he would ever recognize. She’s pleasant enough, and Klaus has found that he can actually hold a conversation with her, which is a nice change from most ghosts. She’s teaching him how to knit, and he’s actually found it to be a nice hobby. Currently, she sits on the floor with Ben, showing him how to make a purl stitch.

No, he doesn’t know how Ben got the yarn or the needles, or how he can hold them and how no one has screamed because of the self-knitting yarn working away casually in the corner. He assumes the yarn isn’t any more visible than his ghost friends, but he tries not to think about how that might be possible - the more he tries to make sense of his powers, the more things seem to unwind, and Ben is having fun. He’d rather not take that away from him.

And then there’s Layla.

There are about two dozens of ghosts currently in the room, and over half of them have taken a specific interest in Klaus, yelling and begging and crying and demanding and then crying some more. Most of them, he doesn’t know. And then there’s Layla, the main source of his current headache.

You see, Layla lost her sisters before she died. Klaus knows that, because she’s told him about seventeen times in the past twenty-four hours. The first time, he listened respectfully, even though he in no way wanted to have that conversation. The second time, he nodded politely. The third time, he tried to tell her that she’d already explained that.

It was his first mistake. She asked him to conjure them. He told her that he couldn’t, that he didn’t know how.

(And it’s true, he doesn’t. He’s only ever managed it once, and… he doesn’t want to trap anyone like he trapped Ben.)

She got angry. She started yelling. The other ghosts were all too happy to join in, shouting their demands, yelling insults and criticism, and for a whole hour, there was nothing that resembled silence. They calmed down, eventually, after Klaus had long since curled up in the corner at the foot of his bed, eyes squeezed tightly close, hands clamped over his ears. But they’d stirred, and they started to take a greater interest in him - Layla encouraged them, too.

And currently, she was leaning over his head, whispering in his ear, and he was trying not to listen, he was trying not to move, not to make a sound, but there were tears stinging at his eyes, his hands trembled as they gripped the sheets tightly, and sometimes he’d hiccup through his silent sobs. He was pretty sure it was all the encouragement she needed.

He should leave. He should get up and - and go somewhere.

It’s true that he’s not supposed to be out of the dormitory until the wake-up call, but he doesn’t care - he just needs to be not there.

The thing is, though…

The thing is that he has the terrible feeling that he won’t just phase through her if he tries to get up.

And it’s nonsensical, he knows that. Ghosts aren’t physical. He’s had proof of that time and again, he’s walked through Ben far more times than what would probably be considered polite - Ben hates that, too. Ghosts are not physical. And yet he could swear that he feels her breath in his ear as she talks. He feels her presence above him in a different way than he feels Ben when they’re walking side-by-side.

And if he gets up and he touches her… he doesn’t know what he’ll do.

He doesn’t know what _she’ll_ do.

So he stays, trembling, eyes squeezed shut, hands gripping his blankets tightly, and he waits for morning.

**\- * - * - * -**

At some point during the night, exhaustion must have won over, for one moment he remembers it being dark, and the next it’s light. He’s in a slightly different position, his arms more relaxed in front of him rather than hidden under the covers with only his fingers peeking out, head nuzzling his pillow, back less stiff and more eased into the mattress.

There’s also…

He pushes himself into a sitting position, the ghosts forgotten for the moment, their earlier cries and moans now silent.

There’s blood on his sheets. His heart seems to come to a halt for a long moment. There’s blood on his sheets and -

He’s in rehab. It’s not like he blacked out, lost a few hours the past day and the blood could have come from anywhere, from a nasty scratch he got from stumbling on the street to the result of a fight with someone or worse. It’s bad enough when that happens, but this time… This time he should know. This shouldn’t even really be possible.

Slowly, shakily, he reaches out a hand towards the bloodstain on the sheets. A small gasp of horror leaves his lips.

There, extending along easily a third of his forearm, are deep scratch marks. He runs a finger along the dried, crusting blood, years and years of training cutting through his panic and helping to try to imagine what could possibly have caused this, but he can’t find an explanation - there’s no bruising, no signs of struggle, nothing but the deep scratches running parallel to each other. His memory is a blank.

“Ben?” His voice is a loud whisper, eyes glancing around for signs of his ghost brother.

He’s nowhere to be seen.

Klaus curses under his breath. He’s kind of freaking out a little there, why did Ben have to choose just now to go for a little stroll? Gingerly, he holds his arm to his chest, though the pain hardly bothers him - it’s nothing compared to what he’d grown used to in a childhood spent as a superhero. He pulls his knees up to chest, scoots back so that his back is up against the wall, and he waits.

It takes about an hour and a half for Ben to come back.

By then, a few more ghosts have gathered in the room, but Klaus has made it a point to not look at them. He’s staring at his knees as if they were the single most interesting thing that he’s ever seen in his life, and he’s not paying attention to the ghosts. He’s not hearing them, he doesn’t know anything about the woman ranting in the corner (her name is Margaret, she died in childbirth in 1894, and she never got to do any of the things that she wanted to do - she’d always dreamed of traveling to Europe, of visiting the family her mother had her leave behind when she was barely a child. She would remind him of Ben if he were listening, but he’s not) or the person crying softly on the floor (they died recently, and they haven’t accepted it yet - if Klaus were listening, his heart would twinge at that, but he isn’t. He isn’t.).

(He is.)

Ben walks straight through the door, chatting animately with Lorena, and he pauses when he sees Klaus, a frown forming on his face.

“You’re up already?” he asks, surprise clear in his voice.

Klaus nods, but doesn’t look up. Where he once desperately wanted to talk to Ben, he now finds that he’s more comfortable sitting quietly. It’s funny, how safe it can feel to just sit perfectly still, every breath a calculated movement, every blink of his eyes a careful and quick split of a second. It feels like if he doesn’t move, the world can’t, either. He knows that feeling, and he loves that feeling, and he hates that feeling. 

There’s a long second where Ben just stares at him, and Klaus can only see him from the corner of his eye, but he can still feel his scrutinizing gaze. Then he’s suddenly peeling away from Lorena, the second over, and rushing to his side. He sits next to him, a ginger, careful movement, and the mattress doesn’t dip.

Still, Klaus doesn’t move.

“What’s going on? Did something - wait, what happened to your arm?”

So Ben doesn’t know, either. Great. He bites his lip in thought for a moment, then he shakes his head and, with a hint of hesitation, he brings himself to speak. “I don’t know. I woke up and - I don’t remember what happened. I thought you might know.”

Ben shakes his head. “Lorena offered to give me a tour of a gallery nearby, we left night after you fell asleep. Do you think someone here…”

“No, no,” Klaus replies. “I don’t know. It just… doesn’t make sense.”

With a sigh, he runs a hand over his face, then he leans his head back to rest it up against the wall. He’s exhausted, he’s exhausted and he’s terrified and he’s confused and all he wants is to be able to leave, to get away from that graveyard, from the ghosts that keep following him, and then probably mix things that should never be mixed so he’ll forget that any of this ever happened.

And it won’t work, on the long term. It never does. But for a few hours, he might get to relax a little, and he’d settle for that. He would.

“It’s been a really weird night, Benny,” he adds.

Ben nods slightly, and he knows it’s just a show of support. He’s been away the whole time, he doesn’t have the first clue what happened that night, he couldn’t know. It still helps, and he feels the tiniest fraction of tension leaving his body.

**\- * - * - * -**

They don’t believe him when he says he doesn’t know how he’d gotten that scratch.

Truth to be told, he didn’t expect anything different. He could’ve lied, he supposes, but he didn’t really see the point in it. They wouldn’t believe that, either. And this time, the disbelief doesn’t hurt much - he gets it, he does. He can hardly believe it himself.

They send him to talk to a counselor. Nothing that hasn’t been said a dozen times before is brought up, but it still helps a little. It usually does. He wonders, sometimes, what it’d be like to actually go through therapy properly rather than have a handful of sessions here and there with different people. He thinks it might even help a little.

There are eyes on him all day, but he barely notices it among the gaze of the dead.

Layla isn’t there that night when he goes to sleep, but he still spends hours awake, drawing pad on his lap, pencil scratching away at the paper, sketching the form of ghosts, of his siblings, of Ben chatting quietly with Lorena. He falls asleep propped up on his pillows, pencil still in hand falling softly on his mattress.

**\- * - * - * -**

It’s day 20, and he wakes to the sound of whispers.

He feels his heart pick up speed, feels muscles tense and hands curl tightly over his blanket, but he refuses to open his eyes. If they know he can hear them, they’ll only be encouraged. If they know he can hear them, they’ll never leave him alone.

And they always know, of course. The connection he has with them, whatever it may be, goes both ways. He can sense them in a way that goes beyond sight and hearing, he can feel their presence - he learned that with Ben a long time ago - and they can feel his like they can feel no other person’s. Still, if he pretends, if he ignores them, they are, sometimes, a little more quiet. A little can go a long way when the option is unbearable.

So he keeps his eyes shut.

The whispers start off distant, a quiet whistling in his ears. He can ignore it well enough if he picks something else to occupy his mind. He hums a song in his head. It’s cold and dark and the imagery involves headless horses, and it’s probably not the best choice for the moment, but it’s the one that pops into his head and he sticks with it. Anything is better than the ghosts, anything is better than the whispers and the things they say.

They grow closer.

He can make out words easily now, and it’s a conscious effort not to hear them, not to pay attention. The tone is whispered, breathy and quiet and slightly whistled. The volume is not. He tenses, even the rise and fall of chest stopping as he grows perfectly still.

The whispers become closer and closer.

He tries to listen for footsteps, rustling, anything that will give him an idea of where it may be coming from, any sort of reference. There is nothing.

Another moment passes.

The whispers sound like speaking now, hushed voices in loud tones, overlapping each other in a cacophony of noise that sends a shiver down his spine.

Then it stops.

A long moment passes, and there is only silence. Klaus allows himself to take a breath, quiet, shallow, controlled, and even that sounds glaringly obvious in the still silence that has overtaken the room.

He swallows, tries to coax himself into opening his eyes.

Then he feels a blow of cold air in his ear, and a voice, loud, imposing, booming.

“Klaus.”

He jumps, eyes opening, and scrambles back on his bed, limbs tangling with sheets and almost sending him sprawling on the floor. Limbs flail, elbows hit the wall with a dull thud, but finally he manages to move back, pressing himself up against the wall with such force that he can feel each and every bone of his spine against the hard surface.

Heart racing, his eyes dart around the room wildly, looking desperately for the culprit, but they find nothing out of the ordinary - everyone else is still sleeping soundly, and the only ghosts around seem entirely uninterested in him, roaming peacefully around the dormitory or sitting in their corners with that strange faraway expression Klaus has seen on them sometimes, as if time had become a concept they’ve evolved past.

He’s often wondered if that’s truly the case.

Ben is gone again. Klaus curses under his breath as he wraps his arms around himself. It’s not unusual for Ben to leave during the night, to go off and explore the world on his own - it must get boring, after all, just sitting and waiting for Klaus to wake up just so he has something to do, someone to talk to or even just watch - but...

He needs to know what happened. He needs to know if this was a nightmare or if something is happening. He needs someone to help ground him.

Ben, even when he’s being thoroughly insufferable, does that very well. Just having someone by his side helps, it reminds him that he’s not alone. He’s always, always hated the trail of ghosts that follows him wherever he goes, but he’s always hated being alone, too. Sometimes, on the really bad days, scared beyond what he thought possible, he’s not even sure which one seems worse.

But now he’s shaking and terrified of so much as blinking, and he’s alone.

**\- * - * - * -**

The line rings and rings and rings.

Klaus taps his foot anxiously, hands shaking as they cradle the handset to his ear.

He’s overreacting. He knows he’s overreacting. Ben has been careful not to say it, but he’s implied it enough times that Klaus has gotten the message even though he really doesn’t want to - he’s overreacting. It was a nightmare, nothing more. He has them nearly every night, especially in times like this, when he has no reprieve from the ghosts. He wakes up in cold sweat, heart racing as if he’d just run a marathon, the whispers of his eternal companions on the tip of his tongue.

It’s normal. It’s terrible, but it’s nothing new. Nothing to worry about beyond - well, beyond the usual.

It rings, and rings, and -

“Hello?”

Klaus almost lets out a laugh, high-pitched and bordering on hysterical.

He can hardly believe how good it is to hear her voice. It hasn’t been that long - she came to the hearing that got him sent to rehab in the first place, and a few rumors earned them a little extra time to catch up. She showed him pictures of Claire, told him that he could go meet them in LA when he was out of rehab. He smiled and made plans with her, but his heart felt tight in his chest knowing that he’d never follow through, that it’d never work out like that because it simply never did.

It’s been twenty days, and yet her voice sounds like a lifeline to him.

He closes his eyes for a second, lets himself savor it until some of the tension eases from his shoulders.

“Is anyone -“

“Yeah. Yeah, hi!” he greets her, and he can’t stop his voice from shaking just a little.

There’s a small sound on the other side of the line, and he pictures her straightening up. “Klaus? Is that you? Is everything okay?” She sounds concerned, and he curses himself for not thinking of that earlier. He never calls from rehab, never. He writes, sometimes, but he never calls. Of course she’ll think something is wrong.

“Yeah, yeah, everything is fine,” he assures her. “I uh... I actually drew a small comic strip for Claire. It’s a... slightly toned down version of one of our missions, you know, the one where Five ended up getting us trapped at the zoo? You said she loves to hear stories about the good ol’ days of the Academy, right?”

“She does. It’s so cute, she - “ Allison stops, and Klaus frowns. “- you’re trying to distract me. Klaus, look, it’s not that I’m not happy to hear from you, I am, but... what’s wrong? You know you never call. I didn’t even know you had my number.”

“What? I call! Of course I call! What about during Christmas?”

“That was five years ago. Don’t change the subject. What’s going on?”

He shakes his head. He doesn’t want to tell her, he doesn’t want to hear what she’ll say. He knows he’s exaggerating. He knows he’s making this out to be a big deal when it’s nothing unusual. All he really wanted was to hear her voice. To distract himself, maybe. He likes talking to Allison, he always has.

“Nothing. Really. I just wanted to catch up. Things have been pretty slow around here and B - “ Do not mention Ben, do not mention Ben “- boring. You know, there’s only so long you can spend sketching before your arm starts to hurt.”

“Klaus -“

“Come on, Allison!” Just give him this, he silently asks, closing his eyes as he bounces on his toes in frustration. Just give him this and he can make it through the next ten days.

A sigh, then some more rustling. “Okay. Okay, I believe you.” She doesn’t, Klaus knows that. But she’ll play along, and that’s all he needs. All he can ask of her. “I got the part on that new movie, it’s... pretty interesting, actually.”

“Oh, do tell!”

“She’s - actually nuanced, you know? Definitely the strong protagonist trope, but she has layers. The story isn’t told linearly, so you get to see many different sides of her without the story telling you what to think. It’s going to be an interesting role. But hey, filming doesn’t start for another few weeks, so I was thinking I could pick you up, maybe we could fly to LA together. If you still want to come?”

Klaus bites his lip, eyes closing once again. He wants to go, he does. But what would that mean for him? He knows Allison would be watching him carefully, and he finds that he doesn’t want to disappoint her, doesn’t want her to watch him go right back to square zero. But he can’t do this, he can’t, he can’t.

“Of course. We’ll have a lovely time,” he tells her in the cheeriest tone he can muster up, and he tells himself he’s not lying.

He does want to go. And he does think they would have a lovely time.

If things were different, that is. If he were different. If he could be who he knows she wants him to be. And he’d really, really love to be that person. He’s tried to be that person, he’s tried so hard, but he just isn’t. He can’t be. He really doesn’t think that he can.

And so round and round he goes, sinking deeper and deeper, always gasping for air, always finding the same lifeline - and sinking yet a little more.

He’s tired.

“Great! Then - Claire, honey, that’s not - I have to go, Klaus. But I’ll see you in ten days?”

“Yeah. Yeah. See you in ten days.”

The line goes quiet, and he takes a deep breath.

Ten days. Ten days and then... Well, he’ll probably break Allison’s heart a little bit more. At least his siblings all expect that, so maybe it hurts a little less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I might be thinking of making this into a series! It’s nothing set in stone, but I do have some idea of where I want this to go so it might happen!
> 
> The song Klaus references is Bring on the Dancing Horses by Echo & the Bunnymen, which is also from where the title was taken.
> 
> I’ve started hanging out on Tumblr again, so if you wanna chat or send me prompts/requests or even just scream about TUA, find me here!


	2. Chapter 2

He’s been keeping a journal.

It was the counselor’s idea, but he finds that he actually likes it. He usually does.

It’s a hard habit to form - he knows he won’t be keeping it up, he knows that in no time he’ll be gone and all he’ll have to show for his journal will be a half dozen entries at best, but it’s nice nonetheless. It gives him something to do that takes his mind off the ghosts other than drawing. Putting things into words makes it easier to process, too, and so long as he can stop Ben from reading over his shoulder, he almost doesn’t feel nervous to commit his thoughts to paper.

Almost.

It’s one thing to tell a ridiculous lie, to act dramatically, to be as loud and nonsensical and unconventional as he wishes regardless of the strange glances and judging eye rolls that people throw him.

It’s another thing to be open, honest, genuine.

And even knowing that no one will read it, even knowing that this is for him and himself only, even knowing that Ben isn’t there and that he can’t flip the pages himself to read it later if he decides to be a snoop, it feels... difficult, to put his thoughts to paper, as if he were speaking something terrible into existence. There’s a hesitation there, but still, he forges ahead.

 **DAY 22**  


> _Allison called today again. She said it was to check in and to ask me if I could draw up a little comic strip about our Eiffel Tower mission for Claire, but I think she’s worried. It’s... funny, really. I mean, after all this time, it’s a phone call that gets her involved again._
> 
> _I miss her._
> 
> _I’m sorry [there are erased, illegible words after this, paper marked and worn as if it had been written on several times]_

  


**DAY 23**  


> _I know, I know. Ben deserves to go out and enjoy the world, have fun, make friends, make bad decisions, come crying to me later (wouldn’t that be a nice change, Mr. I Always Know Better Than You?) but... couldn’t he stay here just one night? I really wish he would. Lorena always drags him away in one adventure or another and he’s happy, he is, happier than I’ve seen him in years, but I... I think I really need someone to be here and tell me they’re seeing this, too._
> 
> _[a few lines have been skipped, the remainder is written in considerably shakier handwriting]_
> 
> _Where the hell are you, Ben?_

  


**DAY 24**  


> _[there are a few illegible, mostly erased lines. Pressed between this entry and the next day’s, there are a few pages of hand-drawn comics detailing the events of the Eiffel Tower mission, signed with a small note to his niece]_

  


**DAY 26**  


> _Four more days._
> 
> _Four more days of ghosts, and then I can run as far away from them as possible and just... forget this ever happened, if I’m really, really lucky._
> 
> _~~I didn’t~~ I don’t think I wanted to write this down, but you know what? Here it goes - weird things have been happening here and I’m trying to pretend like it’s nothing but it’s not nothing. Ben never sees it, he never fucking sees it, but it’s happening. It’s not my fault he’s too busy playing haunting with Lorena to see it._
> 
> _I’m gonna ask him to stay tonight. I..._
> 
> _I need to know._  
> 

\- * - * - * - 

It’s night.

Ben isn’t there.

He hasn’t been around all day, and neither has Lorena. Klaus is starting to wonder whether Ben isn’t going to leave now that he’s found someone else with whom he can spend his time. They’ve always been close, they were almost inseparable as children, but that was a long time ago. Ever since he died, he’s really only ever gotten to spend time with Klaus. There‘ve been other ghosts, sure, but none he liked as much as Lorena. None that stayed as long as she has.

Yeah, Ben is probably going to leave. And he’ll be alone, finally, like everyone has always said that he would end up.

And he’s always counted on Ben, for better or for worse, hasn’t he? Terrible as he might have felt for it, he’s always figured that come what may, Ben would be there, if not for the friendship they share, the friendship they used to share, then because Klaus is his only connection to the living world. The only person with whom he can really interact.

He’s going to leave.

Well, everyone has to move on with their lives at some point. And Klaus is glad that he didn’t completely ruin his brother’s afterlife. It makes him feel a little better.

He sighs.

He’s been tossing and turning for about an hour now. He’s tired, the past few nights haven’t lended themselves to easy sleep, and he might have long since been out if it weren’t for the noise that keeps coming from the bathroom. He’s told himself not to check it out. He knows he’ll regret it, he knows where he stands at that moment - the character in the horror movie that the whole audience is telling should stay put, should do anything but check out the weird noise.

But it’s driving him crazy.

It’s a clattering sound, like something is falling, but it’s rhythmic. If it weren’t for the fact that everyone is already safely asleep in their bunks, Klaus would think that there’s someone playing with something, picking it up and dropping it over and over again.

If it weren’t for the fact that everyone is already safely asleep in their bunks, Klaus would have checked the noise out a long time ago.

But they are. He’s checked.

He closes his eyes. He pictures Ben, envisions the bond that ties them together, stronger than that between him and any other ghost. He thinks of all the times they were there for each other when Ben was still alive, he thinks of the very essence of the friendship they shared. He holds all of that in his mind, and he calls to him, fists clenched before him as he curls protectively up against the wall.

After a long second, he opens his eyes.

He sees no flash of blue. He sees no Ben.

A shiver runs down his spine.

He really is alone, isn’t he?

All alone in this... what? He’s not even sure what to call it. But it doesn’t matter, because he’s alone and he’s scared and he doesn’t know what to do. It’s easier, when Ben is there. He knows there’s nothing his brother can do but shout advice at him in no uncertain terms, but even that - plus his company - is already enough. He knows there’s someone watching his back. The world feels a little less scary.

But Dad always did say that fear was his greatest weakness, the greatest hindrance he had. He hasn’t really changed much in that regard.

So maybe...

Maybe now it’s time. Time to face his fears. He just needs the noise to stop. He just needs to get some sleep.

Hesitant feet hit the floor, and he hoists himself up on shaky knees.

This is a bad idea, it’s a bad idea, bad, bad, bad.

But that other choice does he have? He can’t do this, he can’t just sit there covering his ears, watching the bathroom. He can’t. He’s had enough, he’s exhausted, he’s scared, he’s alone, and he just wants it to stop. If he goes over there, one way or another, it’s over.

The ghosts can’t hurt him, he tells himself, the same mantra he’s played in his head over and over again since he was a child. It’s a small comfort.

The scratch in his arm twinges a reminder, but he ignores it. It wasn’t a ghost, it can’t have been a ghost, ghosts are intangible. They always have been. And if they’re not, if they’re now somehow becoming solid, the implications of that would mean - no, he can’t. His chest feels tight, tears sting at his eyes, and he can’t handle thinking about it, he can’t. Ghosts are intangible, plain and simple. They can’t hurt him.

Then how is that sound coming from the bathroom?

He decides not to think about it, logic be damned. He can deal with things like that once he’s not nearly stumbling on the very straightforward walk to the bathroom, stone cold sober. His knees don’t quite seem to understand how to support his weight anymore.

After what feels like an eternity and like far too little time, he’s standing before the door. It’s plain, panelled wood painted white, and yet it feels like a fortress to him. It’s all that stands between him and what’s inside, and somehow he knows that it matters. Somehow he knows that with it closed, he’s safe. Once he opens it... then it’s anyone’s guess.

A shaky hand reaches for the doorknob, fingers bumping into it a few times before he manages to grasp it. It feels cold under his hand, and he focuses on that feeling, trying to stop his mind from speculating, from telling him that whatever lays beyond that door should remain there. His heart hammers in his chest, and he feels every beat of it against the doorknob. It feels like the mausoleum all over again, flaying limbs scratching against the cold stone floor as he desperately scrambles away from the ghosts, terrified, anxiety mounting as hands reach out towards him, horrified by the idea what they might make contact, that they could grab at him and scratch at him, suffocate him in their masses.

But this isn’t the mausoleum.

It’s one ghost. It’s one ghost and he can run from it, there’s no Dad to lock him in, to force him to stay in that small room crowded by the dead no matter how much he cried and begged.

The facility is big. He can run, he can hide.

He turns the doorknob and gives the door a slight push.

It creaks open slowly.

He peeks inside. It’s empty.

A small frown forms on his face, and he takes a hesitant step forward. The noise has stopped, and he figures that whatever or whoever had been making it might have left - ghosts can phase through walls, so really, a hasty retreat is easy enough. But he’s never met a ghost that ran from him before - he’s always been far more scared of them than they ever were of him. So this -

The door slams shut.

Klaus rushes towards it, grabs the doorknob and twists it frantically, but it doesn’t turn. It rattles and rattles, but it refuses to budge.

Giving up on it, he whips around and, after ensuring that he’s still alone, he runs for the window. It’s small, granted, just a long, tiny rectangle running over the top of the room, but it might just be enough - he’s thin and limber, and he’s got more than enough experience entering and exiting places through... _unconventional_ means. If he can just get it open and squeeze himself through, then maybe -

He can’t.

Five minutes and several bruises later, he lets himself flop back to the floor in defeat. At least there are no ghosts there - he’s alone.

He’s completely alone.

Shivering, though he’s not quite actually cold, he sits in a corner and draws his knees up to his chest. Sooner or later, he figures, someone is going to figure out that the door to the bathroom is stuck and they’ll find a way to open it. He just needs to stay calm until then, check the door periodically, and hope that no ghosts show up. Simple enough, right? He’s pulled himself out of worse situations.

He waits.

The door doesn’t open.

The ghost doesn’t show itself.

Eventually, he sleeps.

\- * - * - * - 

The strange feeling of being watched is what rouses him, head lifting from where it rested on the wall, eyes blinking as they attempt to focus. The early morning light is shining into the bathroom, giving it an eerie half-glow, and crouched just before him, is a quizzical-looking Ben.

“Why are you sleeping in the bathroom?” he asks.

Klaus straightens, one arm lifting to point an angry finger at Ben, face scrunching into a scowl. “You!” he starts, though the word sounds much like an exclamation. “You’re never around, and - and look at what’s happening! But you’re never here long enough to notice! And - and - “

A sigh escapes Ben’s lips, and he crosses his arms over his chest, moving to stand. “What, you locked yourself in the bathroom and no one was here to figure out how to get it open for you? Klaus, you need to learn to function independently, I have a life, you know.”

It’s not fair to complain that Ben has been gone, Klaus knows that. He deserves to have a life. Klaus knows that as well. But damn it, he picked the worst possible time to decide to explore the world, and Klaus is scared, exhausted, and he really, really just needs someone by his side.

“I didn’t lock myself in, asshole, someone locked me in!”

Ben frowns at that. “What, those guys out there? I thought you were getting along with them well enough.” Suddenly, Ben’s brows scrunch with suspicion. “What did you do, Klaus?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Why does Ben always assume that it’s his fault? Sure, it’s usually his fault, but he could really use the benefit of the doubt every once in a while - a lot of those situations weren’t even just unilaterally his fault. “It wasn’t any of them - they’re all asleep, and they’re cool, they wouldn’t...” He ran a tired hand over his face, shaking his head.

That seems to ease Ben’s annoyance a little, and he settles down on the floor next to Klaus, now seeming to have finally arrived at concern. Good, Klaus thinks to himself, he’s finally on the page he should be. Personally, Klaus arrived a ‘concerned’ about ten days ago, but he’ll be happy to forgive Ben’s tardiness if he can just help him get through this.

“Then what happened, Klaus?” he finally asks.

Great, jumping to conclusions hour is done. He can work with that. “There was this weird noise coming from the bathroom, it sounded like... It sounded like someone picking something up and dropping it over and over and over again. It was driving me crazy. So I came to check it out. I couldn’t see anything in the bathroom from outside, but when I stepped in, the door just... slammed shut. And I couldn’t get it open again.”

“That sounds like a prank to me,” Ben argues.

Klaus drops his head back against the wall in frustration. “Yeah? And whoever was luring me into the bathroom just happened to be able to pass through walls? Or is there some secret passage I haven’t found? And how the hell did they get the knob to stop turning? They just quickly disassembled it in the three seconds it took for me to try the door again?”

“What else could it be?”

“I don’t know.” But he does. He does. And he’s terrified of saying it out loud, but he has to, it’s reached a point where he just has to, he has to admit the possibility of it to himself, to Ben, to someone that can help him, because this... This is something he’s not quite sure he can face alone. “Ghosts,” he says, and it’s such a small whisper he’s not sure Ben can possibly have heard it.

He did.

“Klaus...” he starts, moving so that he’s a little closer to his brother. “Klaus, listen to me. It can’t be ghosts, okay? You and I both know that ghosts can’t interact with the physical plane. Look -“ he moves to place a hand on Klaus’ knee, and it phases right through him - “it’s the same as it’s always been. I’m intangible. Which means they’re all intangible. Right?”

Klaus wants to accept that, he does. But he can’t. He can’t, because there’s no other explanation he can see for all the strange things happening around him. There just isn’t. And if Ben doesn’t jump on that bandwagon soon... he’s not sure what he’ll do.

“Come on, Ben, we both know that there’s things about my power that we just don’t understand. Like - like how you and Lorena have been learning to knit. Where did the yarn come from? How can you hold it? How come no one can see it?” Klaus points out, and the look on Ben’s face is all the encouragement he needs to keep going - his brother has noticed that, and much like him, he’s just decided not to question it. “So maybe... Maybe now they can do that. Maybe now they can slam doors and - Ben, if they can do all of this, then...”

“I know,” Ben quickly assures him, “but they can’t. Klaus, just think about this - why now? I’ve been dead for ten years, right by your side, and I’ve never been able to touch anything... real. Nothing that other people could see. If you could do that, then don’t you think it’d have happened before?”

Maybe. Maybe.

Ben has a point. He’s spent the better part of his life trying to avoid his power completely, and while that’s definitely still been the case after Ben’s death, he’s still had him as his constant companion for a very, very long time. It’s hardly his first stint in rehab, too. So why now?

“Does there need to be a reason?” he decides after a moment. “It’s happening now, that’s all we need to know. Look, why don’t you stay with me here for just one day. One whole day, night included, by my side, paying attention. Just one, then if you still think I’m... imagining it or whatever it is you think is happening, then you can go back to your ghostly adventures with Lorena, okay? Please. One day.”

For a long moment, there’s only silence. Ben is watching him with an unreadable expression, and Klaus is unashamedly giving him his best begging, puppy-dog eyes. He needs this, he needs to prove to Ben that this is really happening, because as much as he truly wants it to be nothing more than an illusion, it just isn’t. It can’t be. And if he assumes it to be, then he gives them the upper hand.

Then, finally, Ben says, “okay. Okay, I’ll stay. But Klaus -“

“I know, I know. ‘Be prepared for it to be nothing.’” Klaus rolls his eyes - he’s tired of this speech, he’s tired of no one ever believing him, of no one ever giving him the benefit of the doubt. And he knows, in the end, that he doesn’t help his own case. But it’s easier like that, it’s easier to brush it off when he’s playing the part.

It always stings a little more when it comes from Ben, though.

\- * - * - * - 

It’s day twenty-seven.

Klaus, exhausted but in a considerably better mood now that his brother is by his side and at least willing to listen to him, holds in his hand a postcard Allison has sent from LA. He smiles, but the smile is bittersweet - he loves what she’s doing, honestly. He can’t imagine how much time she must be taking out of her undoubtedly busy days for these small, sweet gestures. And they’re keeping him going, they are, but...

He hates the fact that he’s going to break her heart. He hates the fact that he doesn’t have to, that in the end, it’s really his choice. He hates the fact that he knows what he’s going to choose, he hates the fact that he can’t see another outcome.

See, this is why he usually goes to Diego - aside from the fact that he’s local.

Diego might be a softie inside, he might care so much and go out of his way to help Klaus every time he comes knocking, but at least when he leaves, it’s over. Diego might even go check up on him, but he never wants to let it show that he cares - he’s got a reputation to uphold, after all. It’s easier, then.

The postcard holds a sweet little note talking about all the things they can do once he’s in LA, and he knows what she’s trying to do, he knows that she’s trying to get him excited about the trip. His heart melts a little, and still, it hurts. He’s excited about it, he is - he would love to go on that trip, he loves the idea of the two of them going to the beach, of her showing him around the set for her newest project - and she’s so excited about it, too, she’s been talking about it nonstop - and of helping her run lines before filming, it all sounds... perfect.

It’s the life they used to imagine together when they were younger.

But it didn’t turn out that way, and he doubts he’s going on that trip. It just wouldn’t work, he’d just break her heart a little bit more. He wishes things were different so badly that it hurts.

Ben sits down next to him, peering over at the postcard. “You’re going to LA?” he asks.

Klaus snorts and shakes his head. “Wow, you really haven’t been around much lately, huh? She’s planned this whole trip, and I... might have said that I’d go. But -“

“Come on, Klaus, you always do this - just go. You’ll have fun, and you know I’ve always wanted to see the ocean. Let’s go, we can find out if ghosts can swim and you and Allison can catch up and - it’s not like you’ve got anything better to do. It’ll be fun.”

“What, no lecture about how I’ll break our sister’s heart if I cancel our plans?”

“That, too. But since when do you care?”

Since always, he wants to say, but he doesn’t, instead turning his attention back to the postcard. Maybe Ben is right, maybe he should just go. Maybe it’ll actually turn out okay, maybe -

No.

He knows how it would end. It’s easier to just stay there, it’s less painful for him to just stay there. It’s best for both of them, he’s sure of that.

Still, he slips the postcard into his new journal, and he tells himself he’s going to keep it. He won’t lose it, trade it, sell it - no, this time, he’ll keep it. It’s good to have a reminder of how things used to be, of the relationships he had from which he’s drifted away. And it’s not all his fault, he knows that - after Ben’s death, they all grew apart. They all blamed themselves and each other, they all missed him, and every conversation, every training drill, every recreational moment, every interview and mealtime, it was all just a reminder of their loss.

It was tough, when Five went missing. His empty chair at the table was a glaring reminder of his absence, the lack of his sarcasm and constant defiance, his overwhelming confidence and arrogance, was felt strongly. But they were younger, then. They had nowhere to go. The Academy persevered, and the shared hardship they encountered strengthened their bonds.

With Ben, it was different. Diego left shortly after. Vanya, too.

So him, Allison and Luther were all that was left.

The team was fractured. The family was fractured.

Of seven, only three remained. Of seven, only five were alive. Something like that was impossible to ignore. Their very presence spoke too loudly of the absences.

He’d never noticed before how much he really missed the friendships he’d had.

“So you really are just going to bail on her, huh?” Ben starts, and Klaus knows that tone. There it was, the lecture, right on schedule.

He takes a deep breath and lets out a long sigh. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“You know, Klaus, this is why you always end up alone. You can never make the effort to care about anyone but yourself - she’s putting in the work, and you’re brushing it all off like it means nothing to you. If you didn’t want to go to LA, then why didn’t you just tell her? Or just go because it means something to her? Why do you have to always be such a selfish a-“

“You think I don’t want to go? Newsflash, Ben-the-All-Knowing, but I would love to go on a free trip to spend time with my sister! It - it sounds amazing! But how long do you think that’d last, huh? How long do you think it’d be before I -“

“Uh, Klaus?”

“No, you don’t get to interrupt me, not when you’re being such a huge pr-“

“Klaus!”

“Quit it, Ben, I’m trying to make a point!”

“KLAUS!”

Slowly, Ben raises a hand to point at a spot behind his brother. Klaus turns around, and a yelp leaves his lips.

He didn’t notice it, too busy arguing with his brother, but there’s a ghost standing right behind him. He can’t say how long it’s been there, and for some reason that terrifies him even more. Slowly, carefully, he moves to back away from him - a tall man who must have been in his thirties when he died, with broad shoulders and strong arms, larger than Klaus in every possible way. It wouldn’t usually be enough to scare him - he grew up around Luther, after all, his super-strong brother who could toss him out of a building with one hand if the mood struck him - but there’s a look in his eyes, his dead, cold, glazed over eyes...

It chills him to the bone.

But before he can back away enough, there’s a hand on his shoulder.

There’s a hand on his shoulder, and he can feel it, solid and strong and cold, so cold. For a long second, he freezes, stunned, muscles tense and locked in place, eyes wide with horror. Then, he tries to pull away.

Fingers dig into his shoulder, tips sinking visibly into his flesh, and he hisses in pain, tugging a little harder at it instinctively, but the ghost’s grip is too strong. Panic floods his mind before a strange sense of calm washes over him, the result of years and years of training under his father, of missions upon missions that required him to be sharp, focused, able to compartmentalize in the blink of an eye.

He sees the ghost’s arm, stretched fully to reach his shoulder.

He sees his elbow, straight and locked in place.

He goes for it, hooking an arm over the ghost’s to reach his target and slamming down on it with his forearm.

The ghost stumbles, but its grip remains firm. Klaus’ eyes widen with panic once again, calm leaving him as quickly as it’d washed over. It should have worked. It should have worked, but it didn’t, and the ghost is clinging to him, furious eyes burning cold, and he’s fairly sure he’s never been this scared in his life.

“Ben? Ben?” he calls.

His brother moves forward so that he’s in his field of view, and he looks about as panicked as Klaus feels, which is... less than comforting.

“I don’t know, Klaus, I don’t know! Try - try to send him away!”

“I can’t do that, I don’t know how!” he contests, and the ghost is still staring at him, gaze deep and angry and cold and unsettling, and Klaus wants nothing more than to banish him, to send him away, to never see him again. But he doesn’t know how.

It always comes down to that.

He doesn’t know how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t plan to end on a cliffhanger, whoops! But the chapter was already pretty long as it is, and I stopped writing for the day there and when I went to reread what I had so far it kind of worked?
> 
> For those of you who might be wondering when Diego is coming in, it should be in the next few chapters!


	3. Chapter 3

Fighting, combat, it’s not something to which he’s unused at all.

His whole childhood was spent between training drills and missions, he and every single one of his siblings - the ones with powers, anyway - learned how to effectively fight in a variety of different situations. Versatility was always emphasized, rules were consistently out the window. They were supposed to be creative, to adapt.

And yet there he stands, staring wide-eyed at a ghost, its grip bruising and unbroken, and he has no idea what to do. He wants to struggle, to twist and turn and do anything that he can to break out of its trapping hold, but every movement seems dangerous. Anything he does seems like it could break this strange stalemate he’s found himself it, like it could cause the ghost to move and go for the jugular.

So he stands, still as a statue.

A moment passes.

Then another.

And another.

He feels the hand on his shoulder growing colder and colder, the thin fabric of his tank top doing little to shield him from it. He shivers, and he’s not sure if it’s from the heat he’s losing or something else entirely. The atmosphere feels strange, charged with something he can’t quite recognize.

And then he’s falling, the ghost’s iron grip bringing him along as he topples to the floor. Finally free, he scrambles back to see Ben pinning the man to the ground, form as perfect as during his Academy days. The ghost struggles to break free, but strong as he might be, Ben has already gained the upper hand. He’s not going anywhere.

Klaus winces as he rolls his shoulder, slowly moving to get back to his feet.

“Do you believe me now?” Klaus asks, an exasperated exclamation that, truth to be told, is probably less than necessary.

Ben glares at him, then rolls his eyes once he realizes that Klaus isn’t going to let up. “Yeah, yeah, I do! Of course I believe you, Klaus! Now, would you mind banishing this asshole? I don’t know if I can hold him down for much longer.”

“Don’t you think I would’ve done that already if I could?” Klaus exclaims, letting out a laugh that borders on hysterical. “You and I both know that I don’t know how to do that!”

“Well, figure it out!”

“I’ve tried! Damn it, Ben, you know I’ve tried! It’s just not that simple! And we don’t even know if it’s possible, maybe - maybe I just don’t have a hang-up button with ghosts!”

“You can! Dad spent years trying to get you to learn how to do that, so that’s got to mean it’s possible. And now wold be a great time for you to figure it out, Klaus!”

Klaus has never seen Ben fighting another ghost before. He doesn’t even really understand how it would work - do ghosts have varying physical strength? He’s never seen any signs that his brother has limited endurance as a ghost before. But he can see that he’s struggling, he can see his arms shaking and his breathing getting labored just as if he were human, and he knows he won’t last much longer.

So he looks around, checks that they’re alone in the room, and he gives Ben a small nod.

Ben lets go.

The ghost easily scrambles up from underneath his brother and charges at Klaus, hands outstretched, eyes cold, dead, angry.

Fists clench, and Klaus tries to find that strange little bit of energy in himself, that awareness of things he shouldn’t be able to perceive, that pool of power and potential that he avoids at all costs, hidden in an abandoned part of his mind that he hardly dares to thread. He thinks of it, he tries to lock onto it with every ounce of his will, and he just makes a wish.

He wants the ghost gone. He wants the ghost to leave him alone.

He envisions the man fading, he envisions his ghostly form being pushed out of the room to somewhere far, far away. He envisions him pushed into a different level of the afterlife, somewhere he wouldn’t be able to reach them.

Using every ounce of willpower he has, he reaches into that abandoned place in his mind and he shoves those wishes inside.

Something collides with him.

Then he’s falling, cold fingers tearing into his upper arms with sharp nails, a crushing weight pinning him down. The ghost is yelling now, but there are no words, just pure, agonizing sorrow and anger, and Klaus is terrified and his arms burn with pain as he struggles to pull himself free, but he also finds that he almost feels sorry for the ghost. He wonders for how long he’s been trapped, searching for someone who could hear him, someone who could understand.

And he got Klaus.

Klaus, who could never help himself, much less all the lost souls that constantly surround him. He’s always thought there was a terrible sort of irony to his powers.

Ben is back on his feet, rushing forward to tear the ghost off Klaus. He strangles a scream as the nails tear his flesh a little further before finally freeing themselves, but years of training make pushing past this to get back on his feet easy enough. He stands, and his eyes fall on Ben, who’s locked in a fight against the ghost - his quick and nimble movements against the ghosts towering figure and strength. He’s fallen easily back into his Academy training, but Klaus can see he’s rusty, forgetting to dodge likely due to getting far too used to phasing through things, his movements a little slower, a little less precise. The ghost has no training, it’s easy enough to see that - he balances himself poorly, makes far too many moves that leave him exposed, he traps himself in poor positions, and Ben easily takes advantage of all of that, as they were taught to do from a far too young age. But the ghost is fueled by a rage that Klaus can’t understand, and Ben is tired. He’s losing speed, losing focus, and it won’t be long before he’s overwhelmed.

He closes his eyes, treads the familiar path to the secluded, abandoned little part of his mind. He finds that thrum of power, he finds that strange awareness, that tingling in his mind, like a small spark of electricity. He knows it’s there, he can feel it, almost as if he could hold it in his hands, shape it any way he wants it to be shaped. But how does that help? What can he do with it? He doesn’t know, he doesn’t know what to do with it. He never has.

And Ben needs him now. He needs him.

His eyes open, and he sees a shimmer of blue light die down.

The ghost is still there, about to pin Ben to a corner he’ll have a hard time escaping without phasing somewhere Klaus can’t reach him.

It’s not a conscious decision, though he has no doubt he’d have chosen to do this even if he’d bothered to consult his brain. Klaus just leaps at the ghost, arms moving to wrap around his neck, knees pressing hard against his waist. It’s not practical, it’s definitely not a Reginald Hargreeves-Approved move, but it gets the job done. The ghost staggers, giving Ben the opening he needs to break away from the fight and reposition himself. Great. Mission accomplished.

Except -

Except he’s still trapped clinging to the ghost’s back, and he has no idea how to safely get down, not while he’s being spun around like he’s in a particularly dangerous and unstable merry-go-round.

“Klaus, let go, quick!” Ben calls out.

Klaus looks around himself, trying to get his bearings, trying to plot his fall, but it’s impossible. One moment he’s over the bed, the next he’s being slammed painfully against the wall, then he’s back to square one, over nothing but the hard and yet strangely inviting floor. There’s no way to put any amount of calculation into this. So he closes his eyes and just lets go.

A yelp of pain escapes his lips as he hits the floor with a loud thud, skidding a few feet before finally coming to a stop at the foot of one of the bunk beds. He doesn’t even have time to get up before he sees it. Or rather, he _hears_ it first.

A long, continuous scream, one with which he’s strangely familiar, one that makes him think of -

The Horror.

It’s been a long time since Klaus has last seen it, not since the mission that cost Ben his life, but there it is again, long tentacles reaching out, phasing straight through the furniture, through the walls, the ceiling, the floor, before finally making contact with something solid - the ghost.

Klaus closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to see what happens next.

He still hears it, though, no matter how tightly he clamps his hands over his ears, huddled against the bed as if it could protect him from the knowledge of what’s happening just a few feet away from him.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget it.

And it’s not the first time. It isn’t. All of his siblings - save for Vanya, of course - are familiar with this, they’ve all heard it, they’ve all seen it, and maybe worse than that, they’ve all witnessed the aftermath of it. But it was different back then - it was expected, it was run of the mill. They were too young to question it, too naive to think that what their father told them was right may not, in fact, be the right thing to do. And it was shocking, still, but they pushed it back, buried it in the depths of their minds so they could get through the day. Wash, rinse and repeat. They had their own personal nightmares to survive.

It’s been ten years now, and Klaus may be living his own personal nightmare, but he’s no longer that naive, no longer that desensitized. And more than that, Sir Reginald isn’t there to call him too sensitive, too soft, too fearful. He isn’t there to chip away at whatever soft edges he may still have and harden them.

And when he opens his eyes, there’s no blood, there’s no sign that anything happened there in the first place, but Klaus can still hear the screams reverberating in his mind.

“Klaus,” Ben all but whispers, rushing up to his side. “Are you okay?”

Klaus nods, moving to sit up against the bed. It’s harder than it should be, and after a moment he realizes that it’s because he’s trembling badly enough that even gross motor movements are a challenge to perform with any level of precision. He’s not sure what it’s from - the adrenaline of the fight, which comes just shy of scratching an itch that’s been under his skin for nearly a month now, or the fear, or the sheer horror of what he’s just heard and almost witnessed.

“So... you’ve still got your bentacles, huh?” he says as an answer, because honestly, he doesn’t know if he’s okay. He doesn’t know how to begin to process what’s just happened, or what it means for the future.

Ben smiles at the old nickname, a hand moving to rest on his belly, where Klaus knows the portal lays.

“Yeah. I don’t really know how this works, I - I guess it must have died with me.” He shrugs slightly, his hand dropping back to his side.

“Can you still feel it?” Klaus asks, curious.

Once again, Ben shrugs. “Yeah. I mean, it’s... different. Everything feels different. But I can still feel it the same way that I feel everything else. It’s been a lot more quiet, though, since I died. Maybe it just didn’t like Dad making it come out all the time and -“

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but he doesn’t have to - Klaus knows very well where it was going. And he wonders, vaguely, if it’s possible that the Eldritch monster that lives in another dimension, whose tentacles manage to creep out through Ben’s portal, could possibly be a better person than their dear old father. He doesn’t think it’s unlikely at all. He’s always thought Ben’s bentacles seemed rather friendly when they weren’t being forced out for training or missions.

“And the... the ghost?”

Ben lets out a small sigh and shakes his head. “I don’t know, Klaus. But I don’t think it’s going to be bothering us again. Maybe he’s moved on, or maybe he’ll just reform somewhere else, or in a few days or weeks. Or -“

“Or maybe he’s been erased from existence,” Klaus completes.

Ben flinches.

Klaus frowns, then shakes his head. “Oh, no, Ben, I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, it’s not your fault, I was the one who couldn’t... I tried, I really did, but I just don’t think I can banish ghosts. But if I could, then - wow, that’d be a game changer, Ben. Can you imagine that, no more ghosts? Aside from you, of course. The silence, the _bliss_.”

Ben smiles for a moment, but the smile drops quickly - too quickly. Klaus frowns before the words even come out of his brother’s mouth. “Klaus, if you can’t send them away and this keeps happening...”

A sigh escapes his lips, and he buries his head in his hands. “I know, I know,” he mutters. “What am I gonna do, Ben?”

“Well, just... get through the next few days. Then you can go to LA and Allison will be there to help,” Ben offers.

Klaus lets out a loud groan. “Are you really still on that? I’m not going to LA, Benerino. And even if I did, what’s Allison supposed to do about the fact that ghosts can apparently be solid now? Find my corpse when one of them finally kills me? You know, that’d just make Diego and Vanya have to travel all the way to LA for the funeral, or have her have to ship me here, which is probably one hell of a pain, so -“

“Stop it, Klaus. I’m so sick of your self-defeatist bullshit. You’re not dying. So what that the ghosts can hurt you now? It’s your powers that let them do that. So learn to control them. They can’t hurt you if you don’t let them.”

“Wow, Ben, great advice. You’re right, it’s simple, really - I just have to learn to do something that Dad tried to teach me for twenty years and that I’ve always failed completely at, all while trying not to die - it’s brilliant! Have you considered a career as a professional problem solver?”

“Klaus -“

“No, no, you’ve said your piece, and you’re right. I’m just going to step outside for a few and see if maybe, if I get an early start on this, I can’t master my powers and achieve world peace before lunch. Maybe a little fresh air is all I need.” He flashes Ben a sarcastic smirk, batting his eyelashes in mock innocence to really drive the point home.

Ben rolls his eyes, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like “I should have let the ghost have you.”

Ignoring him, Klaus starts to make his way towards the bathroom to clean up the deep scratches in his arms so he can join the others. He’s been gone for too long already, it’ll raise a few eyebrows if he doesn’t show himself soon, and he’s not in the mood for that kind of scrutiny. Really, he could do without people entirely for at least a few hours, he’s too tired to keep up the happy-go-lucky facade he always puts on, but maybe... Maybe people is exactly what he needs. The ghosts are always easier to ignore when he’s engaged with other people, and they might just be the distraction he needs to keep himself from spiraling too far right now.

**\- * - * - * -**

The crafts room, always his favorite, is bustling.

Klaus plasters on a smile as he walks in, ignoring Ben’s pleas that they should really be trying to work on his powers, and he strides confidently up to a corner. Vinny, the closest friend he’s made in this stint, is sitting on a bean bag with a large drawing pad on his lap, a piece of charcoal scratching confident lines on the paper.

With a smile, Klaus plops himself down beside him, stretching lazily over the bean bag.

“So, how did things go with your sister yesterday?” Klaus asks, turning so he’s facing Vinny, all but laying down with his head propped up on his hand at this point.

Vinny shrugs. “Fine.”

“Come on, give me the details, I’m dying for some entertainment here,” Klaus whines.

“She’s... not happy with me, I’ll tell you that much. Looks like things have been one hell of a mess since I left - Mom’s looking after my sister’s kids while she’s off on that research project in Greenland, but she can’t really keep up with those three little tornados, so she’s calling her all the time and she’s having to come back here more often than the project can afford and - I guess she just wishes I could help.”

“Hey, at least she wants you in her life, right?” Klaus offers, shrugging slightly. “I haven’t seen most of my siblings in years, and I don’t think they’re eager to rectify that.”

“What about that sister that keeps calling you? The one who wants to bring you to LA? Allison, right?”

Klaus nods. “Yeah, Ally - I mean, we talk, but... it’s just not the same, you know? She reaches out sometimes but I think... eh, doesn’t matter.” He waves a dismissive hand.

Vinny raises an eyebrow, but to his credit, he doesn’t push.

Ben offers unheard commentary, urging him to keep going ‘since this dipshit won’t listen to me’, but the subject gets dropped, and all Ben receives for his effort is a scathing glare from his brother. He knows what Ben wants, he knows that his brother wants him to come to the sudden realization that his siblings are all reaching a hand out for him and he’s pushing them away, but - well, it’s just not that simple. That’s what he always tells Ben. And he has a hard time elaborating on it, which he knows, he _knows_ may very well mean that he just can’t substantiate his argument, but... one thing he does know. Allison and Diego, the two siblings to whom he still talks on a semi-regular basis, would just be disappointed in him. Sooner or later, he figures it’s basically inevitable. He’d rather just stay away.

Reaching up, Klaus grabs a spare piece of paper and attaches it to a clipboard, left hand feeling around the table for a pencil. Once he finds one, he straightens himself into a somewhat sitting position and, clipboard resting on his lap, he starts to sketch out an all too familiar figure.

It takes just about ten minutes for Vinny to glance over and knit his brows.

“Is that another - what did you call them? Ghosts?” he asks.

Klaus nods, offering him a cheery grin that’s probably just a little too over the top. “Yep,” he says, popping the ‘p’.

“You draw the darnest things, Klaus.” Vinny shakes his head, an amused laugh playing on his lips, before turning his attention back to his own drawing, an elegant sketch of a bird with strong dark lines, a contrast Klaus found fascinating the first time he saw, and which he put several hours of effort into trying to replicate, with varying levels of success. Vinny showed him the technique, but he’s yet to refine it, and his own drawings use a level of details that’s difficult to achieve with charcoal.

The one he’s working on now is a sketch of the ghost he and Ben fought - hulking figure, cold eyes, and if looking at it makes a cold sense of dread wash over him, at least drawing helps to calm him enough that his hands don’t shake.

He’s quiet as he works, thoughts drifting, pondering over what Ben said earlier. If the past few days were any indication, this would keep happening over and over, and he can’t live like that. He just can’t. But his options are... not great. There’s a chance that just leaving this place will help, that getting some distance from the cemetery, from all the ghosts that dwell there, will make this power flare up or whatever it is dampened. There’s also a chance that the usual methods will work like a charm and he’ll be able to resume business as usual. But the problem is that it’s just not sustainable. He knows painfully well that there will be times when he’ll run out, there will be times when he’ll be in situations like this, and then... what? He should just live in fear of these moments? He’s been doing this for years, and it’s already bad enough as it is. He’s not sure he can cope with that kind of stress on a long term basis, not when he knows what the consequences of giving his power enough leeway can be, how bad it can get.

And Ben is right. Figuring out how to banish ghosts would be the perfect solution. But how is he meant to get there?

A trip to LA, a long and relaxing walk on the beach? Oh, if only it were that simple.

So great, as per usual, the only way he has to solve the problem is seemingly unachievable, and he can see nothing that he can even try, no matter how much work he puts in, no matter how unlikely it might be, that can actually get him there.

And it’s strange - even now, sitting quietly on his bean bag, just drawing and occasionally pausing to watch Vinny work, he can feel that peculiar power in himself almost humming, a strange resonance coming from... somewhere. He’s not quite sure where, and he’s not sure that he wants to know, either. He can feel it, and it seems like such a natural thing, such a part of himself, that he feels like he could reach out and touch it, but he doesn’t know what to do with it. He doesn’t know how to shape it, he doesn’t know how it works, he doesn’t know how to ask it to do the things that he wants to do, or even if it has that ability. If _he_ has that ability.

It’s a part of him, and yet it’s alien to him.

They’re one and the same, and yet he feels like they’re different entities.

He drops the pencil and moves to run a hand over his face. He’s so tired.

“Are you okay, man?” asks Vinny, turning to face him with a worried expression. “You seem... kinda off today.”

He opens his mouth to answer, mind rushing to come up with some kind of excuse, but he’s saved from lying by a loud voice calling his name. He turns around, nearly falling off the bean bag with the abruptness of the action, and he smiles as he spots one of the nurses by the door.

“You have a phone call,” the nurse announces.

Of course he does. And he should be happy, he knows that - he’s spent so many of the past few years wanting his siblings to want to reconnect with him - but he’s not. He’s not, because this is day 27, and on day 30, it’s all over. Maybe that means he should enjoy it. Maybe he should be selfish and just take this while he can get it, ignore the fact that it won’t last, that the longer he lets this go on, the more it’ll hurt when it’s over. For Allison and for himself.

He sets the drawing pad down on his seat and smiles at Vinny, then struts out of the room as if he’s not still debating whether he should be dreading this or not.

**\- * - * - * -**

Hearing Allison’s voice after all of this is exactly what he needed, and he knows that she knows that.

Granted, she has no idea what exactly he’s been through, but she knows it’s been rough. She knows, because Allison has always been perceptive, especially when it comes to people. Fooling Luther, fooling Vanya, even fooling Diego and Ben - he’s always managed that easily enough. But fooling Allison is more of a challenge. One small slip and she’ll spot something’s wrong, she’ll start looking for an answer, for a way to help.

He hates that. He doesn’t know what he’d do without it. Without _her_.

He’s expecting to hear more about LA and all the things they’ll do when he’s over, so he’s a little surprised when, after a moment of being strangely quiet, she says, “I need your help.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

“They’ve sent me the script for the movie and they’re asking me for my opinion, what I think of the character and how they’re approaching her life and - well, there’s some things I’ve been thinking over and I’d appreciate a fresh set of eyes on this. Do you have some time?”

Klaus shifts in his seat, a smile setting on his lips, and he nods, “for you, my dearest sister, I have all the time in the world.”

It’s said in a characteristically exaggerated tone, but the sentiment is true. She could have called any one of her Hollywood friends, people with actual experience in the field, to ask for their opinion, but she called him instead. He remembers a time when that would have been the most natural thing in the world, and he can’t help but wonder... are they becoming friends again?

He could really, really use a friend.

Sometimes, he thinks she could, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell that I love Klaus and Allison’s friendship?
> 
> I am very, very excited for the next chapter. It should hopefully be up sooner than this one - university started up again for me last week and it always take a few weeks for things to get back in gear.
> 
> Thank you for all the comments, kudos and bookmarks, they always make my day!


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